The Legend of Tall Friendly Dan

The following short story is based on a conversation I had this summer with a friend of mine when he was helping me move (what a nice guy!). Apparently, in high school he was known as Tall Friendly Dan, due to the fact that he was (and as far as I can tell, still is) very tall and very nice and friendly. Everyone knew who he was, even people he didn't know, because of how tall and friendly he is. He stuck out like a tall friendly thumb. I thought this nickname was hilarious and decided it needed to become an Old West parody. Four months later, that parody has become a reality. This one's for you, Dan. Enjoy.

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The Legend of Tall Friendly Dan

            Night comes early at the Hard Times Saloon in East Dallas. It’s a tough place, and the customers are even worse. It was 4:30 pm on a Wednesday, and I was at the bar, slinging back tequila shots with Mary Malone, the local floozy. She was letting me lick the salt off of her forearm when a very tall man walked up to the bar and ordered two shots of Bacardi 151 on the rocks, with a chaser of dragonfruit cider. The bartender, Smelly Pete, squinted at him irately.

            “Dragonfruit cider? We don’t carry that namby-pamby hipster shit. You want a sweet fruity chaser to follow your rum, you get pina colada mix or nothin’, bub.”

            A guy wearing skinny jeans and a neckerchief sitting a few bar stools away called out, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean, Smelly Pete? I thought we were bros, man!”

            “Sorry, Doug. You know that I view you and your culture with the upmost respect. I myself have been known to practice a vaguely hipster lifestyle. But dragonfruit cider is just ridiculous. I won’t have it in my bar I tell you, I won’t have it! It clashes with the New Old West theme that I’ve worked so hard to establish.”

            Smelly Pete poured out two generous shots of rum as he whirred up a pina colada smoothie in his brushed nickel industrial-grade blender.

            “I suppose you want some kind of fanciful paper umbrella in this here chaser.”

            “Nope, just the smoothie is fine.”

            “Well, if you change your mind I only have horse-shoe patterned ones. And that’s it.”

The tall man threw back one of the shots, then poured the rest onto his smoothie.

            “If I’m going to have a pina colada, it may as well be an alcoholic one.”

Smelly Pete just grunted and went back to wiping the counter with a grimy rag.

Seeing that the storm had passed, I turned back to Mary.

“Say, honey. You want to make this here evening a classy one? What say we finish with some dirty martinis.”

“Sounds good to me, sweet cheeks.”

She wasn’t talking about the cheeks on my face. Smirking, I flagged down Smelly Pete.

            “Two dirty martinis, heavy on the olives!”

            “I’ll get ‘em to you in a hot minute, just let me grab a new jar of olives from the back.”

Smelly Pete adjusted himself through his trousers and lumbered off to find some olives. Mary smiled at me and said,

            “All this tequila is making me hot. I hope these martinis are nice and cold or I might start making a spectacle of myself.”

            “Oh really? Maybe I shouldn’t have ordered them after all.”

            “Hey, I much prefer classy men when I can get them. Don’t worry, the night is young.”

The tall stranger, who was seated a bit closer to us than I would have preferred, said,

            “Sorry to interrupt, but…well it is 4:45 pm. So technically it’s not even night-time yet.”

Mary glared at him.

            “Figure of speech, and night-time is after noon and before morning. So technically they’re the same thing.”

            “They really aren’t the same thing at all, but we can agree to disagree.”

            “Hey, buddy. Back off. The lady and I are trying to have a conversation. A private conversation.” I glared at him too.

            “I’m sorry. I was just trying to be friendly.”

            “Yeah, well back off. We don’t need any more friends.”

Let me just defend myself by saying that things had not been going so well in my life at that time, and I didn’t need any distractions foisted on me by unusually tall strangers. I had already chosen my distractions for the day: Mary Malone and booze. Meanwhile, Smelly Pete had wandered back into the room.

“I’ll have those martinis for you in a sec, bud.”

Smelly Pete twisted the lid of the olive jar.

It didn’t budge.

Shit.

I really needed those olives. A dirty martini was the last thing standing between me and Mary Malone’s smoking hot bod, apart from her clothes. I know what you’re thinking; couldn’t Smelly Pete just make a regular martini with cocktail onions? No, he couldn’t. That wasn’t going to seal the deal. It had to be dirty with olives, that’s just how these things work.

“Here, let me try!”

I leaned over the counter and grabbed the jar, then twisted the lid with all my might. It was tighter than airport security at JFK.

“Goddammit!!!”

Mary sighed.

“Calm down, it can’t be that bad.”

She took the jar out of my hands and tried the lid.

“Wow, that’s pretty tight. Maybe we can just break it.”

“NO!” Smelly Pete shouted, “You break anything in my bar, and you’re out! I just polished this floor!”

“Here, allow me.”

The tall stranger reached for the jar, and twisted. Nothing. He looked at it for a second, tapped the edge on the bar counter, then twisted again. Needless to say, it popped off quicker than a stripper’s blouse when her shift starts.

“Who- who are you?” Smelly Pete stammered.

“Me? Why, they call me Tall Friendly Dan.”

“Oh, Dan…” Mary purred, “You’re so tall…and friendly, too.”

I put my arm around Mary to remind her just who she had spent so much time drinking tequila with, and said to Smelly Pete,

“How about those dirty martinis, then? What are you standin’ there starin’ for, ain’t you ever seen a man open a jar of olives before? Hop to it!”

Before I turned back to my date, I muttered out of the corner of my mouth,

 “Thanks, friend.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. With that, Tall Friendly Dan drained the last of his pina colada, threw some money on the counter, and sauntered out the door. That was the last I ever saw of him. I’ll tell you this, though. He’s out there somewhere, opening doors for the elderly and finding and returning lost pets. I just know it.